


That Posh Tart

by teddyprince



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, It's sad and cutesy, John's POV, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddyprince/pseuds/teddyprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was quite happy with Greg, until a posh twat turned up, and Greg went head over heels for him. But what had happened to John, from then, to now? </p><p>---</p><p>Just a quick little thing my hc of a friends canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Posh Tart

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, sorry I've disappeared for so long! But anyways, made this for you. Hope you enjoy!

John glared at the boy in front of him. Part of him was jealous, part of him was happy for Greg, part of him couldn't care, and the rest of him wanting him to go back home and cry.  
"Listen, I don't care for who or why Greg left me. All I care about is if he's happy!"  
Why couldn't this posh tart Mycroft Holmes understand that?!  
"Are you quite sure John?"  
"Yeah! Very! I'm happy for him, and you! You are lucky honestly! He needed someone good in his life, and you are that person. And if you ever hurt him, I hope Hell rains down upon you." John bit out, a tightness forming in his throat.  
He meant it. He'd rain Hell upon the posh tart who knew the Queen. Or, apparently did. 

~*~

"Gregory, I can't."  
"Bullshit, of course you can."  
"I don't want you distracting me from my work."  
"I won't I swear, please, please don't do this, I'll do anything."  
"Then you'll let me go."  
"Mycroft, please..."  
"I'm sorry."

~*~ 

John vowed that when that piece of shit returned, he'd break every bone in the fuckers body.  
But it depended on how he was. If he was like he was when he left, then he'd be in hospital for a very, very long time.  
If not, he'd be in for a broken wrist and two broken ankles.  
But, Greg seemed happy with Courtney, even if they'd had 1 one night stand and were expecting a kid. Not that either of them minded. Apparently it was her dream to have kids, so she'd be keeping it. Greg was fine either way.  
They were engaged as well. They had to be. She'd get shit on by her family, Greg's family would tell him she's a whore and needs to get away asap. 

~*~ 

They got married a month or two before their boy was due, to give them a bit of time to get into the new house and sort all the rooms out. John had to go around a few times to help, what with Courtney unable to. Not that he minded. He got to spend time with Greg. 

~*~ 

It was all a bad idea when John got boners when he thought about what they both did.  
Courtney pulled him aside at one time when she'd noticed.  
"What d'you think you're doing?"  
"W-what're you on about? I'm only helping you and Greg out."  
"Are you sure?" She glanced down.  
"Wha- o-oh shit."  
"Mm."  
"Nothing's going on, I promise you, he's just...an..."  
"He's just what?"  
John swallowed the lump in his throat.  
"I'm one of his exes. I, er, keep thinking about when we were, y'know together."  
She crossed her arms over her rather large tummy.  
"You are really to be married to him. Honestly, he is a good man. He's lucky to have you to." John managed a smile.  
She did to.  
"Thanks." She gave him a light peck on his cheek, before heading back through to the babies room, where Greg was still painting. 

~*~

The baby was born a few days after. Boy. Little late. 6lbs. They'd named him Steven.  
John had gone up to the hospital to see them both a day after it was born. Greg and Courtney were both asleep, Steven in a little bed at the side of Courtney's bed. John went over to him, the baby, turning his head to look up at him, as he kicked his legs slightly. John smiled at him, before heading back out.  
He couldn't do this anymore. 

~*~ 

Hey Greg, just thought I'd let you know, I've, er, joined the army. Well, joined a while ago, but being shipped out now. Just thought I'd let you know.  
Hope you are all okay.  
-JW

~*~

John had forgotten about nearly all of them whilst he was out in the desert. James Sholto had half helped with that. But John had had to go and get himself fucking shot hadn't he. Of course he had.  
He'd been sent back to England, and had only recently got out of hospital. Nightmares seemed to plague him every night, making him wake up, almost like a reminder that he was alone.

~*~

"John?"  
John carried on limping through the park, thinking the call was meant for someone else.  
"John Watson!"  
He turned around, seeing Mike Stamford in front of him.  
"It's me, Mike Stamford."  
He lit up inside a little. Not exactly alone.  
He shook the man's hand. 

~*~ 

They'd gone to get lunch, well, a coffee, and catching about old uni times. Flats had arisen as a subject. Flatmates too.  
"C'mon, who'd want me for a flatmate?"  
Mike chuckled.  
"What?"  
"You're the second person to say that to me today."

~*~ 

He'd heard of hot, but Sherlock Holmes was fucking divine.  
"Mike can I borrow your phone?"  
"What's wrong with landline?"  
"Prefer to text."  
Mike patted his jacket.  
"In my coat upstairs."  
John pulled out his phone, holding it out to Sherlock.  
"Here, use mine."  
Sherlock took it.  
"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

~*~

Of course Mycroft was back. Apparently he'd been back for ages. He and Greg had been married a good few years. Something had gone on with Courtney, and she'd been shipped off somewhere after word had gotten to Mycroft she'd been hurting Greg. And Steven.  
They had another kid as well. Riley. They seemed nice. From the little he'd heard.  
To be honest, he wasn't even entirely sure Mycroft even remembered him.

~*~

This fucker was mad, honestly. Going after a murderous taxi driver.  
He checked every room in the building, before going into the last one, looking around, before he saw Sherlock in the opposite building, about to take the pill.  
"SHERLOCK!"  
The cry was useless, obviously. He opened the window, pulled out his gun, and waited, shooting the cabbie as soon as Sherlock was about to eat the pill. Hit his shoulder, just missing Sherlock. 

~*~

He stared up at Sherlock on the rooftop, watching as he threw the phone onto the roof. He pulled his phone away from his ear.  
"SHERLOCK!"  
But the detective didn't listen. He leaned forward, falling off the roof.  
"Sher..."  
He waited til he heard him hit the pavement before running to him, a cyclist knocking him over. He looked up, getting his bearings, getting back up, heading over to Sherlock, pushing the doctors out of the way.  
"No he's my friend, he's my friend."  
He checked his pulse, his eyes turning glossy as he watched Sherlock be pulled onto the stretcher and hurried off into the hospital. 

~*~

He couldn't do it. There were so many times he just wanted to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger, so he could be with Sherlock.  
Greg helped him through it. He couldn't figure out why he found the DI's hugs so comforting. 

~*~

"Oh my God, oh my God, do you have any idea what you've done?!"

~*~

Mary had left their child to John, then left. Not that John minded. He was with Sherlock. They were a family. A dysfunctional one, but a family.

~*~ 

They got married a few months after. Which was one of the best days of his life.  
He was glad Mycroft had turned up all those years ago at their uni now.  
He'd have to thank him later.


End file.
